Glimpses Into a Supernova
by ScribeOfRED
Summary: A collection of Force Unleashed drabbles. Now Complete. 35: Choice - Through Darth Vader's betrayal, I learn the ways of the Sith.
1. Picturesque

**A/N: Yes, I'm breaking loose of the TRON fandom for a (possibly) brief deviation into Star Wars. I say possibly because, of this point, there will be eleven chapters, but if you guys want more, please tell me. Keep in mind these drabbles are from both games, and they're in no particular order continuity-wise. I will try to update every few days, but we'll see.**

**Enjoy these drabbles, and don't forget to leave a review!**

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**Glimpses Into a Supernova**

**By**

**Scribe~Of~RED**

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Missions.

The only thing Starkiller hated about them was spending time in hyperspace. The sensation of partially existing in another dimension—_of_ _not quite existing_—of momentary disruptions in the Force itself, were sickening enough without staring through the blue whorl into something beyond even the Force.

He found distractions: training, meditation, studying (targets and otherwise), occasionally fending off another attack courtesy of PROXY's impossible to predict programming. He became an expert at avoiding the cockpit.

Another pilot perished under Vader's anger. Another stepped into the role.

And Starkiller soon realized the cockpit's view was more pleasant than he remembered.


	2. Shock

**A/N: I forgot to thank my two beta readers: PSPGamerGirl and Serafia Cross. Thanks, gals!**

**For this drabble I referenced both the cutscene in the first game and the corresponding scene in the book.  
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Shock:

"I never wanted any of this for you. I'm sorry, Galen."

Thought abandons me. I'm not aware of my hand reaching out toward the heavy brown cloak as it flutters once before vanishing into drifting vapor; not aware of a cruel tightening in my chest; not aware of the searing heat behind my eyes.

"Father, no." The words are broken, as shattered as my mind—as my heart.

This is—_was_—my family's home. We lived here.

My... _father_... died here.

_Father..._

_Mother..._

Two presences wisp against my cheeks. "_Son_."

Collapsing to my knees, I lower my head and scream.


	3. Angel

**Beware the mangoes. Only trained ninja can handle their potency.  
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He doesn't understand how he survived the fall. The cliff where he'd last seen Darth Vader is thousands of feet above him—impossible to survive, but it seems he has a talent for the impossible.

He's cold. He hurts, but the cold mutes the pain to bearable levels. Come to think of it, the cold mutes everything. He's tired. _Exhausted_. He's lost; the Rebels have been taken, rounded up like scum to be executed. Without them, the galaxy is lost. The Sith have won.

He lets go of it all.

_Dark_.

It's the tears of an angel that restore him.


	4. Sand

**This drabble took over an hour to shape into one hundred words, but the time was well spent, as this is one of my favorites.**

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My Master never spoke about himself. His true name, planet of origin, age, species... Such things held no sway over my purpose for existing, nor was pursuit of this knowledge permitted.

Questions about my Master's history only arose whenever I returned to the _Executor_'s secret level encrusted in sand—the only time I cleaned up before reporting to Vader. Everything—clothes, weapons, items—had to be meticulously cleaned, perfectly free of sand, before I could enter my Master's presence. To ignore or question this command resulted in terrible pain.

My speculations about my Master's hatred of sand were never answered.


	5. New

**This is a bonus chapter, since I wrote this drabble just after midnight, and it only took me twenty minutes! Yes, I'm a slow writer.**

**Have an idea for another drabble? Review!  
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When he slides the focusing crystal he found in the Kashyyyk hut into his lightsaber, he senses an immediate change. Something is different. _He_ is different.

He thumbs the switch and a sky blue blade springs into existence with a _snap-hiss_, and it's a sound he's never heard before, but has known all his life.

Hours later, Juno finds him staring into the lit blade.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs from behind him. "That shade of blue is my favorite color."

He stands. Turns. Meets her steady gaze. "Mine too."

Because the lightsaber is the same color as her eyes.


	6. Crest

**Out of all my drabbles, this is probably my most sentimental. Ever since I first experienced the end of the first novel/game, I've viewed the Alliance differently. At its simplest, the Rebellion boils down to a few people.**

**This is a tribute to the one I view as _most important_. And, yes, it is vague.**

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_The Alliance Starbird_.

_The Phoenix_.

The insignia is simple, graceful, with round wings sweeping up, tapering into tips sharper than a vibroblade. To those who understand what its clean lines represent, it's viewed as a symbol of hope, of courage, of strength rising to burn the Empire to the ground. Thousands have embraced the Starbird; it's embroidered on tunics, painted on starships, stenciled on helmets and crates and blasters. Most often it is the crimson of fresh blood.

The multitude never learns the truth, for that pain is too deep to share.

A Phoenix can't rise until it has fallen.


	7. Undertone

**I had to rewrite portions of this drabble multiple times before I was satisfied with the idea, but I finally ended up with something I'm happy with, although it's not quite what I set out to write. Characters are nothing if not unpredictable.**

**Have any idea for a drabble? Thoughts? Review!**

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There were days aboard the _Rogue Shadow_ when no one spoke. Most often, Kota was unconscious after his latest drinking binge. Occasionally the apprentice retreated to his quarters to sit in silent meditation, or perhaps assisted PROXY with repairs to his core.

But his favorite days were spent in the cockpit with Juno. It didn't matter whether they were hunched over the navcomp, wordlessly plotting their next three jumps, or he watched her fine-tune the ship's sensor array, passing the occasional tool, always at the right moment.

On those days, words would never be enough, so they didn't try.


	8. Bravado

**Apparently my betta fish just face-planted in the rocks in his bowl. He's a bit of an odd one. Actually, he's an extrovert... as extroverted as a betta fish in a bowl can be.**

**Betta fish aside, I'm not thrilled with this drabble; it didn't quite end up where I wanted it to, and I ran out of words far too soon. I forget how small one hundred words really is.  
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**Have an idea for a drabble? Love this one? Review!  
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Sometimes he returns to the ship covered in blood. It's rarely his, and he's careful to always comm Juno before entering visual range. He knows from experience that females don't react positively to copious amounts of blood.

Juno's the exception. Without fail, she meets him at the ramp, medkit in hand. He usually waves it away, but sometimes there's no alternative—and then she insists.

She's neat and efficient, possessing hands steadier than a surgeon's. Every single touch is soothing. Peaceful.

They both pretend the waves of anguish that overcome her the moment she flees to her quarters don't happen.


	9. Tame

**To be perfectly honest, I really don't like the way this drabble turned out. It's definitely crackish, since both Juno and Galen are acting _way_ out of character. I'm not good when it comes to dialogue, and even worse when it's supposed to be funny. But my brother thought I should post it, so here you go. For your semi-crackish amusement I present:  
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**_Tame -_ Life as a rebel isn't easy on the hair.  
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**Does anyone honestly want to review something this weird?**

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"Ah, Juno, you're up. I spoke to Kota and we've decided we need to return to Raxas Pri—oh. Uh, Juno?"

"Don't say anything or I swear I will complete PROXY's mission before he has a chance to."

"But I... Your hair... It's curly."

"A fact of which I'm well aware."

"But why—"

"Because it never fit under my hat. Military regulations demanded tame hair. I... suppose I've grown used to straight hair."

"And today's an exception?"

"Fugitive status means I'm not allowed to shop anymore."

"Ah..."

"Don't laugh!"

"I'm not."

"You are!"

"Juno... Go back to straight. Please."


	10. Coma

**This was either the second or the third drabble in this series I wrote, and I spent at least half an hour researching Star Wars-specific alcoholic beverages. Of course, I had to settle on one of the most common and uninteresting...**

**I only have three chapters left after this one, so if you have an idea, now is the time to let me know.**

**Review?**

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It wasn't unusual to find Rham Kota passed out, half off his seat in the cockpit, an empty bottle of Corellian wine cradled in one arm. We soon grew accustomed to stepping around his slumped figure—even Juno, who made it clear she wasn't fond of the Jedi's habit of drinking himself into a coma. PROXY's complaints that it would be more convenient to stuff him into his miniscule quarters went, more often than not, unacknowledged. We never spoke about it, but I could tell Juno found the ex-Jedi's quiet but still _there_ breaths as reassuring as I did.


	11. Truce

**This was the very first TFU drabble I wrote. It started out as the beginning of a series of one-liners inspired by random words, but when it grew to fifty-two words and still wasn't complete I decided to turn the whole idea into a set of drabbles. I'm exceptionally pleased with this drabble, although it did take several edits to reach a publishable quality.**

**Have an idea for a drabble? Enjoyed this one? Review!  
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Even as my lightsabers dropped from fingers unwilling to let go...

_What good are they if they don't protect my heart?_

Even as my knees joined them on the rain-slick platform...

_I've bowed countless times before; today I would rather die._

Even as my hated Master's will lingered around Juno's slender throat a moment too long before releasing...

_My every dream was crushed in that same moment._

Even as rage boiled away the water on my skin in delicate wisps...

_Out of reach... She's always out of reach..._

I knew this truce was as fragile as Juno's broken windpipe.


	12. Warmth

**So, as of this very moment, this is the last drabble (not counting the special chapter I'm saving for last), but I hope to write another three drabbles today to bring the total up to fifteen 100-word drabbles. I have one idea so far (thanks, Bibliophile109), but I want to know what you guys want to read, so if you have any burning idea you want to see written out, please leave a review. I'll do the best I can to use the ideas I'm given. And... if I get enough ideas I may just have to keep posting drabbles...**

**Review?  
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Starkiller was never warm.

The _Executor_ swelled around him—massive sheets of durasteel welded into place by titanic industrial machines.

He dueled his Master; PROXY; suffered through the burns in silence.

He visited planets' surfaces: some covered with crystal sheets of ice; on others, only charred cinders remained.

And he grew colder still.

Not even the scorch of Vader's lightsaber searing through his heart could warm him.

Dying in space chilled him further. Chilled him to death.

Juno's lips collided with his, and an inferno ignited deep in his chest.

His hands met the Emperor's, and her fire eclipsed everything.


	13. Age

**I'd like to thank Bibliophile109 for the inspiration behind this drabble: you wanted to see something about Galen's childhood. Unfortunately, this didn't quite come out the way I originally had in mind, nor did it follow your idea, for which I apologize, but this is where my brain and fingers wanted to take me, and who am I to refuse them? Still, I feel both Galen and Juno are a bit OOC here, which I don't like, but I couldn't seem to make this work any other way. *huffs in frustration*  
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**I still have one drabble left to write in order to complete the set of five, so I need ideas, folks. Something very specific, please, or else I tend to slip off track. If you leave an idea, be sure to mention the genre you'd prefer: angst, romance, humor (or my wacky attempts at such), ect. Nothing slash related, please. If I get enough ideas, I just may have to write _another_ set of five...  
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They are replacing PROXY's burned out holoemitters when she pops the question he's been waiting months for her to ask.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

The hydrospanner ricochets off PROXY's torso with a deafening clang and skitters to a stop on the floor. "Seventeen."

He retrieves the hydrospanner and holds it out. "Yes."

"I... can't..." The words are whispered, but he can see molten anger beneath the crystal shards of her eyes.

She reaches for the hydrospanner, then latches onto his wrist. "Vader will die for what he's done to you."

He brushes a thumb across her knuckle. "For everything."


	14. High

**I wrote this drabble _very _early this morning, as the last two drabbles I wrote just didn't turn out. Thanks goes out to Bibliophile109 for the idea of exploring the differences between Starkiller and Galen. I'm surprised how quickly this drabble flowed; it took maybe fifteen minutes, but I did have to manipulate lines a bit afterward.**

**I have a bonus drabble I'll be posting tomorrow, so look out for that.**

**Review?**

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The dark side was a drug.

Starkiller desired power—the power to overthrow the Emperor and take the galaxy for his own.

Galen desired power—the power to protect Juno from any who wished harm on her.

Starkiller hated—hated the Jedi and their deluded, feeble grasp of the Force and its true nature.

Galen hated—hated his Master for the monster he'd been raised to become.

Starkiller was consumed—consumed by the euphoria of killing another being.

Galen was consumed—consumed by the euphoria of learning he was loved by another.

Both Starkiller and Galen were addicts.

Neither survived.


	15. Friendship

**First off I'd like to thank both Bibliophile109 and Liisiko for the inspirations behind these two drabbles: ****Bibliophil109, who wanted to see something on **Starkiller and PROXY's first meeting; and Liisiko, who wanted something from Juno's perspective and/or an important point in their relationship. I tried to roll everything into two hundred words. You'll have to tell me if it worked out or not.  


**Normally I don't post two days in a row, but I figured I may as well, since I seem to be on a writing roll, which I believe is due to all the awesome reviews with such incredible, tantalizing ideas you guys have been leaving. *review hint*  
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**I'm not particularly fond either of these drabbles, as neither turned out as I intended, and since both were inspired by the same prompt (I wrote the first one, decided I didn't like it, then wrote the second) I decided to combine them into one chapter. I feel I ran out of words in both, and every time I try to write an all-dialogue drabble, the characters decide to go all OOC on me, which is utterly frustrating. Dialogue is my weakest point; I can't figure out for the life of me why I allow myself to attempt all-dialogue drabbles. In other words, consider this double drabble very mild crack.  
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**I'll be posting a companion piece to _High_ tomorrow, and I really, _really_ like how it turned out, so stay tuned for that.  
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**Review?  
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"So... PROXY... you're going to help me train?"

"Yes, Master, that is one of my lesser functions."

"Lesser? What is your main function?"

"My primary programming dictates I am to kill you when I get the chance."

"Kill me? Has Vader determined I'm no longer useful?"

"Not at all, Master. In fact, he is quite pleased with your progress. You wouldn't understand—you are only six."

"What else can you do?"

"I am programmed to become your friend."

"A friend who tries to kill me. Am I allowed to kill you in return?"

"Of course, Master."

"Then let's be friends."

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"Another duel, I presume?"

"Yes. We'll need to purchase more holoemitters—this is our last one."

"Wait a minute. I don't understand something. PROXY is programmed to kill you, right?"

"Yes."

"And yet you still care for him."

"Of course. He's my friend."

"Normal friends don't try to kill one another."

"Then maybe we're not normal. But PROXY has been with me for as long as I can remember, and he's never betrayed me."

"And to you that makes him a friend?"

"Yes."

"But he tries to kill you!"

"I'm used to it, Juno. Stop worrying."

"That's... what friends do."


	16. Low

**This is the companion piece to _High_. Bibliophile109 mentioned in a review how Galen likely couldn't access the dark side as often as he used to after he began forming the Alliance, and that sent off a chain reaction of ideas that led me to write this. This is a double-and-a-half drabble (250 words), but I just couldn't make it fit into anything smaller, despite my attempts to do so for almost an hour. Regardless, I'm exceptionally pleased with how this one turned out.  
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**If it seems like we've been here before, you would be right: I purposely keep the ideas I created in _High_ flowing here.  
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**What do you think? Does _Low_ work as another facet of _High_? Review and let me know!  
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"_And remember... that the dark side is always with you_."

_Vader is right_. The dark side is always with me.

Day, night, realspace, hyperspace... It doesn't matter—the words lacerate my mind: savage, unceasing, unmerciful.

_I can't escape_. I'll never escape.

I shouldn't use the dark side—Kota is so close: what if he senses the seething darkness within me?

_I can't control this rage_... It burns me alive...

I must use the light side, but using it exhausts me—I was trained to reject it, and even a moment's use requires intense, strength siphoning concentration.

_I want to give in. _I want to release myself to the violent dance of untamed fury and power.

Heat crackles across my skin, warping the flesh of my palms, twisting my fingers into claws eager to sink into my prey.

_Yes. My prey... The Jedi. _The Jedi will die.

But then I lose the trust of those I've enticed to join my rebellion: men and women I've fought so hard to convince we're worth the effort.

_I can't kill the Jedi_... because with every breath I take, I'm tempted further into the light.

But the dark side is there also, a droning whisper inside my skull: promises of power, of destruction, of death.

_It will never go away_... Never, because the dark side is a drug and I am addicted—and not even the light can absolve my craving.

Because every moment spent in the light amplifies my lust for the dark.


	17. Costume

**This drabble was inspired by the ever-creative Bibliophile109, who brought up the idea of focusing on the differences between Starkiller and Galen. I know _Costume_ has a similar feel to both _High_ and _Low_, and I apologize for the lack of variety in the last few updates, but this is where my muse has been taking me.  
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Starkiller never wore white. He couldn't. Attempts to wear white resulted in disaster: a brutal upheaving of the Force that no one but his Master could survive.

He'd lost his first pilot—and ship—to white.

White was _pure_.

White was _innocent_.

White was _perfect_.

White was the color of those he killed. The white robes of dignitaries, the white hair of those trapped in the past, the white of self-proclaimed heroes.

Starkiller wasn't a hero, so he couldn't wear white.

Galen knew he wasn't a hero either, but he didn't choose to wear white.

The white chose him.


	18. Tapestry

**First off, you may have noticed I've changed the category for this story from movies to games. I'm not sure why I put it in movies in the first place, nor can I figure out why I hadn't changed it until today. Guess I've been more distracted than I thought.**

**I wrote this one on a whim. In NeverMindToHold's review for _New_, she said something that captured my attention, and I just had to write it out. Unfortunately, I forgot about the idea until yesterday, but better late than never. I couldn't quite make it work with the word limit, but I'm still happy with it.**

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Kashyyyk gave many things. When I braced myself to stand, sharp metal bit through the thick leather of my glove and sliced my palm open.

What I pulled from the slated wooden floor was worth the pain of sliced tendons.

Cupped in my hand, crimson against crimson blood, rested a metal pendant. A bird, identical to the one on the half shredded tapestry on the wall.

Warmth surged up my arm and settled in my chest.

_This is your heart_. _Do not squander it_.

Later, I handed the pendant to Juno. I figured it was better than giving her flowers.


	19. Mystery

**Since I only have one more chapter actually written out, and I want to save that particular drabble for last, I pounded this out last night/this morning. Bibliophile109 wanted to know if I ever did drabbles from other points of view, to which I replied that I've purposely kept all these drabbles (with the exception of the dialogue-only chapters) from Galen's POV. I figured it was time to break that mold, so here you go. For your reading pleasure: Kota's POV.**

**I'll take one more request for the second-last drabble. Try to make it specific, if you can.  
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**Review?  
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Kota knew he was traveling with fools. He insisted his link to the Force had been cut.

The female pilot believed him; she didn't have any reason not to.

The boy... Kota couldn't tell, nor could he risk any sort of probe to be certain.

But he knew—from the moment the boy rudely kicked his table on Cloud City—who he was. Anyone with a half-witted attunement to the Force could sense his raw power; the savage darkness lurking within.

More than once Kota pondered killing him.

He didn't understand why he didn't until after the boy's death.


	20. Color

**All of you who have been waiting for Juno's POV, wait no longer! I've finally written a Juno drabble! And there's the anticipated, collective sigh of, _F__inally..._**

**I fiddled with the ending lines a number of times, and they still aren't quite right, but I'm not sure what's wrong with them. *rubs eyes* And I stayed up way too late trying to perfect it, so now I'm half asleep _and_ trying to work on half brain power. Not a chance I'm going to rewrite this and get it to work, at least not right now.**

**Since people still seem to be enjoying these drabbles, I've decided I'm going to keep writing them until my inspiration gives out, which I hope doesn't happen any time soon.  
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Beside me, Starkiller drops into the padded copilot's seat with his usual lithe grace, but something isn't right. I observe him askance.

My fingers freeze above the controls. His tunic is... green. And not just any green—it's like hazel, but darker. Richer. There's a depth to it, one I can't focus on but know is there.

Our eyes meet. I'm shaken by the raw uncertainty in his, dimming their starburst sienna to a dull brown.

I take his hand in mine. "It's perfect."

My stars flame once more. "And it's not black."

Warmed, I smile. "No. It's much better."


	21. Book

**Bibliophile109 wondered what the crew of the _Rogue Shadow_ does when they aren't on a mission. I think I've already covered what Kota does (see _Coma_). Perhaps one day I'll look into PROXY's central processor. And, yes, this is my second drabble in a row from Juno's POV. Apparently I like getting into her mind. Who knew?**

**As I'm no longer restricting myself to a limit of drabbles, feel free to bombard me with ideas. I love hearing what you guys want to see.**

**Review?**

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Next to flying, Juno loved reading best. Sadly, as first leader of Vader's Black Eight Squadron, then Starkiller's pilot, reading time was nonexistent.

Her rude discharge from the Empire meant spare time—enough to catch up on her holonovel list.

She curled up in the pilot's seat, datapad loaded with her favorite romances.

"Juno?"

She swiveled to face Starkiller, who leaned, shirtless, arms crossed, against the open door. "Yes?"

"Would you care to spar?"

"I..." She nibbled on her lower lip, debating. Oh, why not? She stood. "I'd love to."

Time for holonovels was hard to come by after that.


	22. Shields

**I'm posting this early because I don't think I'll have time tomorrow. Enjoy!  
**

**I was on a writing roll Saturday evening/morning and got this drabble done in less than fifteen minutes. All the editing I did was delete the three-too-many words, so it's a bit rough and stream of consciousness-ish, but I kind of like it.**

**And, yes, this drabble is operating on the assumption that Starkiller in TFU2 is a clone. My own views are a bit more complicated than that, but this is how it turned out.  
**

**Review?**

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All my life I had been kept behind shields.

First a growth vat. These memories were faint and almost never surfaced, but occasionally I imagined I was still hanging suspended in the life sustaining, life _restricting_ fluids.

Then behind walls as I trained. Vader ensured I was never allowed outside my allotted training areas. His methods were excruciating and effective.

Shields—thick, impenetrable planetary shields—kept me from Juno. She was on Kamino, and I was in the uppermost atmosphere with nothing but a critically damaged cruiser beneath me. It was enough.

When we kissed, my final barrier shattered forever.


	23. Innocence

**Thanks goes out to DarkDevon13 for the idea to write a drabble from the perspective of the _Rogue Shadow_. Your review instantly captured my attention, even though it took this long for me to write it out. Thank you for the unique idea.**

**It's amazing: I wrote these hundred words in less than fifteen minutes, yet I slaved over another oneshot for almost an hour and ended up adding just over one hundred words. I seem to be more comfortable doing drabbles as opposed to 1,000+ word oneshots. Weird. And frustrating.  
**

**Keep leaving ideas; they are a constant inspiration.  
**

**Review?**

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The _Rogue Shadow_ wasn't a beautiful ship. With an asymmetrical design and squat profile, she was designed to be hidden under a cloaking device.

For years she traversed the galaxy, from Polis Massa to Belkadan; different pilots behind the controls, but always the same human, and the same droid.

She served them well: her unorthodox design augmented her agility and speed, and many times these differences saved them all from annihilation.

But violence was her constant companion. Rarely a mission passed without an altercation—some on the ground, some in the air.

Despite this, blood never once tainted her decks.


	24. Painting

**I seem to work best under pressure. I had nothing written out to post until midnight, when I sat myself down and wrote this drabble. That crazy TMNT oneshot is draining much of my time and inspiration. Oh to just be finished with it already...**

***ahem* Anyway... I'm remarkably happy with the way the middle of this drabble turned out. The beginning and end... not so much. And I headlong into the word limit again.  
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**Also, your random fact for the day is this: Trying to capture the image I have in my mind here on a canvas would be _difficult_. My sister is an artist. A darn good one. I have more than a mere vague idea of what it takes to complete a realism painting, and I know this would be very, very hard to capture.**

**But I digress. Keep leaving ideas; they're an incredible form of inspiration. It's through your ideas I keep writing drabbles.**

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At the sharp intake of air beside him, Starkiller looked up to find Juno staring out the viewscreen with wide eyes.

"Juno?"

She blinked, then turned to him. "Look." She pointed outside. "Wouldn't that make a spectacular painting?"

He glanced out. They were ascending through Kashyyyk's upper atmosphere; he saw the sharp edge of the planet, green against the living black of space. Behind it, barely visible, was the system's sun. Orange lined clouds chased the planet's horizon.

"I suppose." He shrugged. "I don't know the first thing about art."

She smiled. "Art is everywhere—you just need to look."


	25. Message

**I'm getting faster. I wrote this drabble in less than ten minutes, which left me with enough time to complete another LotR drabble, the series of which I hope to begin posting within two weeks, so watch out for that. If only my brother would finish writing his portion...**

**Ideas for this series? Review!  
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"Juno, if you are watching this, then I am dead.

"I don't have much time so I'll try to keep this short. I... I love you, Juno. I always have, from the moment you interrupted PROXY's description of you. That description... it doesn't do you justice. Nothing could. You are amazing: intelligent, beautiful, tender.

"You are my light, Juno. Without you I would be lost—an eternal slave to the dark side.

"Don't be sad. I died protecting you, and that's all that matters to me. Share you hope with the galaxy, Juno. Please.

"May the Force be with you."


	26. Segregated

**I admit I've been avoiding Starkiller-in-training drabbles, since that's a hard concept to explore in only one hundred words, but Liisiko's idea of exploring him dealing with being ordered to kill piqued my interest. This drabble didn't turn out the way I anticipated, but I'm still happy with it, although I fear Starkiller's childhood requires a longer word count to explore in any real depth.**

**Also, in a bout of shameless self-promotion, those _Lord of the Rings_ drabbles I've mentioned are now being posted on days opposite these drabbles. I encourage you to check them out, and not just because my brother wrote two-thirds of the drabbles and he'd love some positive feedback.**

**Review?**

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"Those who oppose us must be killed."

The synthesized rumble of my Master's voice vibrates through my being. The dark side accompanies it: a sizzling burn as it physically impresses his will into my cells.

"Yes, Master." I know better than to fight the sensation—it is futile and leads to pain more terrible than this—but my curiosity isn't so easily tamed. "Why must they die?"

"They are traitors to the Empire. Their crimes are unforgivable. It will be your duty to eliminate them."

"I understand, Master." The pain recedes, and I rise. "They shall die. All of them."


	27. Defectiveness

**I seem to be on an angst-and-second person spree, but this prompt was just screaming angst-and-second person, so here you go. This is my favorite drabble I've written in some time. The original idea didn't come through as clear as I wanted, but I'm still pleased with the turnout.  
**

**Shameless self promotion alert: I just posted an _Assassin's Creed_ oneshot, and I'd love for every one of my readers to check it out because I'm _thrilled_ with how it turned out, and I want to hear what you all think.  
**

**Review?  
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You love Juno, and it's why Vader has ordered your death.

_You refuse to kill her—it goes against every Force saturated atom in your body._

That he's entrusted your demise to a squad of troopers tells more than any abuse of how little he cares for your life.

_At least when he's still breaking you he still hasn't terminated your usefulness._

The troopers lift their rifles. Muzzles spit superheated plasma at your head. You don't care.

_Without her beside you, there is no point._

Maybe your next self will be the one to break this loop of perpetual failure.


	28. Mood

**I thought it was taking me less time to write these drabbles. Apparently not. This one took over twenty minutes, as I was rather indecisive about what I wanted to say. I had several prompts running through my head, and I feel this end result is a bit jumbled.**

**I'm beginning to run short on ideas again, so if you guys have anything specific let me know. I love hearing what your creative imaginations come up with.**

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I learned early on sharing a confined space with a woman wasn't easy. Rules began to crop up the moment Juno stepped aboard the _Rogue Shadow_.

_All duels had to be kept contained to the training room_. No exceptions. Even PROXY obeyed that one.

_Her quarters were off limits_. No exceptions.

_I was forbidden to enter more than one life-or-death situation a day_.

Some rules I could keep.

Some I couldn't.

Others...

_Unless I was in the training room or my quarters, I had to wear a shirt_.

Others rules made no sense, since they was never enforced.


	29. Bisection

**I had a _very_ different idea in my head when I first saw this word, but it seems Juno has her on take on where this was supposed to go. That's what happens when I choose to write from her POV instead of Galen's.**

**This is a bit of an odd one, since it spans both games, but I just couldn't make the idea work any other way.  
**

**No one's left any specific ideas for a while, so I politely ask for at least one fresh idea. I feel my own ideas for these drabbles are beginning to stagnate, and that's not what I want to have happen at all, if only for the sake of all you reading these.**

**Review?  
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As an Imperial pilot, I was taught basic hand-to-hand combat, but the only violence I ever partook in was from behind the controls of my starfighter.

Our escape from the _Empirical_ changed that.

At first I watched only—duels with PROXY, then solo practices, armed and unarmed.

_Every gravity-defying leap stole my breath..._

To my surprise, he was the first to ask if we could train together, and train we did: long, painful hours spent learning how to incapacitate an opponent a hundred different ways.

In the end, it amounted to nothing.

My attack failed.

Vader lived.


	30. Free

**Ironically, just as I finished writing/editing this, "Now We Are Free" from the _Gladiator_ soundtrack began playing. A sign, perhaps?**

**It was very, very late when I wrote this, I was finding it hard to keep my eyes open, and I'd already struggled through another drabble (which has sparked an idea that may or may not progress into a complete oneshot. Time will tell). As for this drabble, I started writing something completely different for the second half, but it wasn't clicking so I tried again and ended up with this... whatever this is.  
**

**Review?  
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The Empire's version of freedom was a joke; the Sith's, even more. Or perhaps it made more sense inverted: slaves to the dark side, the Sith ruled all, and they held the galaxy hostage by way of their white-and-black masks. The Sith hoped the artificial white would blind them to the truth, but no one, not even the most powerful Sith ever, could deceive an entire galaxy, one filled with trillions of sentient beings. Some saw beyond the masquerade. Some spoke against it. Some fought against it.

Some were lost, but the seed of freedom had been planted.


	31. History

**When I began publishing this series of drabbles, I had eleven individual chapters already written out. Due to interest levels, I've kept writing, updating every other day. Unfortunately, the last few chapters have plummeted in terms of quality (as I'm sure everyone's noticed), and I've decided I don't want to post content I'm not satisfied with, so that leaves me with three options:**

**1. Put these drabbles on hiatus until my Force Unleashed inspiration returns.**

**2. Mark the story as complete... in the event of my inspiration refusing to return within a reasonable time.**

**3. Allow my readers to bombard me with ideas to kick-start my imagination, thereby allowing the drabbles to continue.**

**Yes, this all comes down to you. If enough good ideas are submitted consistently, then the drabbles will continue. If not, I'll be ending them soon (perhaps another three or four chapters), even though I don't exactly want to. It's been so much fun hearing what everyone has to say!  
**

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**Last chapter I said that drabble I didn't post may spark more writing. Well, it certainly did. This chapter is the first part of a mini-trilogy.**

**Heads up: next chapter I'll be raising the rating. Parts two and three of this trilogy are going to be quite dark.  
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"Starkiller, how many beings have you killed?"

"Targets, collateral, or both?"

"Um... targets."

"One hundred sixteen."

"Somehow I expected more... Were they all political enemies?"

"Most, yes. I've also wiped out two attempted rebellions before they could generate much public attention."

"You said collateral. That means...?"

"Another two thousand, four hundred kills, give or take a couple dozen."

"I... I had no idea. How—no, I shouldn't ask."

"It's fine, Juno."

"I don't think—"

"Juno. I don't mind."

"How... do you live with yourself? All those deaths..."

"I know they've joined the Force. But that doesn't stop the nightmares."


	32. Dragon

**Oops. It appears I've miscalculated; the rating won't change until the next chapter.  
**

**This is an idea I've had rolling around in my head for some time (approaching a month, now), but I wasn't sure how exactly I wanted to approach it. The previous drabble, _History_, inspired the direction I've taken, although it certainly wasn't what I originally had in mind...  
**

**What do you think of the mini-trilogy so far? Have any clue where it may go? Review!  
**

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Every time I attempt sleep, the nightmares begin anew. Dark. Violent. Hateful. I am killing people. Good people—people not afraid to stand against the Empire.

They're so brave.

I've fought nightmares all my life, but these are different. The Force—neither dark nor light; just the Force—is haunting me with these images, forcing me to relive every single atrocity I have committed in the name of freedom.

I'm not free.

Every face I have ever killed appears, each to claim revenge on my body. I burn, _I burn_...

It's too much

I scream. Wake.

But I'm still burning.


	33. Consequence

**_Minor spoilers for this drabble follow_: To be honest, I had a hard time figuring out exactly how I wanted to end this trilogy. I fiddled with several different endings; the current final line didn't exist in the first draft, and although I liked it that way, I felt it was too hopeless, that it needed something extra on the end. Tell me if I've done the right thing or not by adding that line. And, yes, it is longer than normal; 240 words, since even another ten were pushing this in directions I didn't want to go.  
**

**Oh, yeah. This drabble pushes the set into an alternate universe.**

**So, what are your thoughts on this trilogy? Does this final part live up to expectations? Does it need a forth part? Review and let me know! I really want to know what everyone's take on this is—even if this is the only drabble you decide to review. Please?**

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Starkiller is slowly dying, and it's tearing me apart because I can do nothing but watch.

They started as simple nightmares. They've evolved into something infinitely more deadly.

The horrors inflicted upon him are becoming real.

He refuses to sleep, but he can't stay awake forever—it's impossible. Seven times he's collapsed, unconscious. Each time, I'm unable to wake him, only watch, helpless, as he thrashes about—tortured by the Force until he has the strength to drag forth a return to consciousness.

I'm terrified, almost as exhausted as he is, but I can't leave him. Not during his waking hours. Not during his living nightmares. I watch burns appear, without apparent reason, across his skin. Lacerations. Stab wounds. Bruises. Hear bones snap. Watch his face contort. Listen to his feral screams, transmitted across vocal cords seared raw.

Conscious. Unconscious. Both are hell. I can't decide which is worse—for either of us.

He's awake right now—if such a state can be called _awake_. His body is broken. He should be dead—these are injuries no one can survive. Not even him.

But he still breathes—the terrible, ragged breaths of one beyond exhaustion, beyond control.

"J'no... love... you..."

I brush my lips across his—deathly cold, feverishly hot—then lay my head on his blood soaked chest and cry.

He's dying under the eternal weight of his sins, and I can do nothing but watch.

Watch and pray.


	34. Jealous

**I figured after the intensity of the last three chapters a bit of a break from angst/tragedy was needed, so here you go: something borderline fluff-crack. I think. I know now for a fact that I write angst 100% better than fluff/humor...  
**

**EDIT: I complete forgot to thank DarkDevon13 for the inspiration behind this drabble! I apologize profusely. *doffs cap to DarkDevon13*  
**

**Review?  
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The moment Starkiller saw Juno's expression as she marched towards him, he knew he was in trouble.

"I want to know something," she said, crossing her arms, "and I want you to tell me the truth."

The urge to glance behind him was tantalizing, but he resisted. "Of course."

"Why do all of your missions involve attractive females?"

They had? "I wasn't aware of that."

Her eyes became slits. "I don't believe you."

"Then don't." He turned away, then paused. Glanced back. "Juno."

She met his gaze.

"I could never notice them; there's only one worth my attention."

"Who?"

"You."


	35. Choice

**I've decided that this is the last drabble, at least for now. I may pick these up again (in fact, I _probably_ will) but right now it just isn't possible for me to devote enough time to these and still keep them at a quality I feel comfortable posting. I want to thank every single person who's reviewed, and all the other readers that haven't reviewed. *bows* You've all inspired me so much; I would never have written so many drabbles (or had so much fun doing it) without all of you.  
**

**Also, thank you so, so, so much to all the anonymous reviewers. I wish I could reply back to all of you, but it's not possible, so this is my thank you shout-out. You guys are amazing.  
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**Oh, and please, _please_ keep leaving reviews. I'd _love_ continual feedback on these.  
**

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**This is going to sound odd but I'm honestly not sure what this is, and I definitely don't know where it came from. I wrote from midnight to about two-thirty, read through what lay on the page, made a few single-word edits, scratched my head in confusion, then stumbled off to bed.**

**Nevertheless, this is one of my absolute favorite chapters (although _Consequence_...), despite its unusual styling and vagueness.  
**

**If anyone feels the need to start a discussion on what takes place here, then by all means go ahead. I really want to hear everyone's thoughts on this. I do know exactly when this takes place (hint: first game); can you figure it out?  
**

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Through Darth Vader's betrayal, I learn the ways of the Sith. Anger and hatred and rage and _revenge_ and _destiny_... They are more a part of me than the metallic air cycling through once-shattered lungs, and I willingly descend into their fiery, out of control depths, where I am burned alive by their all-consuming need to destroy.

_I refuse to be destroyed._

Passion. Strength. Power. Victory.

By living out these tenants, I become more than just a man.

_I bend anger and hatred to my will, leave them with nothing but surrender, and from the inferno I emerge master: controller of the uncontrollable._

_I see Darth Vader, the Emperor, and their vast Empire bowing before me._

_I see myself crushing them into something so insignificant it isn't named._

_I see the galaxy itself lying prostrate in my presence, and I consume it in fire and blood._

_I become all, and all becomes me._

_Then why is there no victory?_

The scent of lubricant, the touch of cool leather, the whisper of gentle reassurances... Each brush against my senses—familiar, grounding, comforting...

_Dying_...

The moment I choose to pursue Juno's fading presence is the moment I accept Vader's offer to become his apprentice once more.

And I become victory itself.


End file.
